blogclan_2fandomcom-20200213-history
Dawn of Fire
DAWN OF FIRE Chapter One Frosto's Point of View I run my hand along the smooth black wall of my prison cell, as cold an ungiving as it always it. A farmiliar surge of dissapointment fills me. Why was I so stupid? Why did I have to rush into that battle and get myself caputered? I take a lock of my dirty blonde hair, twining it around my finger. I hate being a Prisoner. I detect footsteps down the hall. My heart speeds up. As quickly as I can, I close my eyes, picturing my cat Form. Opening my eyes, I watch as white fur the color of snow sprouts from me. My ears become bigger and triangular-shaped. A tail curls itself around my paws, twitching. Whiskers grow next to my flattened nose. My almond-shaped eyes turn an icy-blue tinge. I feel claws beneath my paws, currently sheathed. I shake out my legs, stretching elegantly. Being a cat feels like an escape from reality. The only reason I wasn’t one until now was an act of defiance against the inhuman Guards that keep me here. That even their Chip won’t keep me from being myself, with my tanned skin and long hair. I shake my pelt out, growling. They’re coming. I tuck my paws in neatly, putting on an innocent expression. What the Guards want. I quietly hiss at the thought of obedeing them. The door gives a soft swinging noise that my keen ears swivel to pick up. A Guard steps into the room, a shaft of light from outside catching on her scarred face. She quickly tuck her auburn hair in front of it. Ashamed. I know I can’t fight. I’ve seen the remains of rebel’s bodies. The small, jagged puncture wounds all over them. Their eyes, bloodshot and stretched wide in agonized horror, their mouths open in a screech that will never come. The trickles of black blood spilling out from their wounds. I shudder. One thing I’ll never be interested in is being one of them, stretched out on a dirty floor like a sickly piece of artwork. A warning to Prisoners – this is what happens if you don’t obey. A lesson. A lifeless lesson. Fury fills me. I’ll never be one of their displays. The Guard’s waiting. Her foot taps the floor, echoing. I mentally note that she seems nice. Sparing me. I scramble over and follow her down the dark corridor, flexing my claws. All I want is to sink them into the flesh of my enemies, feel their blood on me. But then where would I be? No better then them, that’s for sure. No. As much as I am tempted to attack a Guard, I have to be better then them. I have to prove that I’m not a maniac killing machine. Responsible for the Multiverse Wars. The Multiverse Wars. The reason I’m here. The reason my mother and father are dead. A picture of my sister flashes in my head. Grace. Is she dead? My chest tightens. Every day, I fear for her. Even if she survived the first attack, she could well be dead by now. I picture her, a stream of blood slowly spilling from her forever stilled body, turning the ground around her scarlet. Tears sting my eyes. I push them back. I will not cry. I won’t give this Guard the satisfaction of seeing me burst into tears. Not even a chance of surviving after that. I’d be tortured with…whatever they use to kill the rebels, whatever gives them scars, whatever turns their blood black. Whatever puts them in so much pain. My stomach heaves just thinking about it. Luckily, I haven’t eaten yet today. Which reminds me. I haven’t eaten in what? A day? A week? Two weeks? My stomach clenches painfully in hunger. Will I ever eat again? I’ve never heard of Prisoners starving to death. No, the other form of torture is more effective, I’m guessing. Disgusting. The only time I’ve ever seen someone starve was back on Oblivion- Oblivion. The thought of my home Planet brings the tears back to my eyes. Where there was peace. Where I had a family. Where Guards didn’t go around mindlessly killing the innocent. But then the peace was shattered. Oblivion, whose leaders had kept their involvement in the Wars a secret for so long, killed in a storm of fire and ash. Along with my parents. And then it all comes rushing back. The day we lost everything. ———— “Look!” Grace tugs on my sleeve, her blue eyes shining. I turn. “What?” Everything’s the same as it always is is the field. Emerald-green grass, blowing in the wind. A crystalline sky, dotted with fluffy clouds. Birdsong. “A flower,” she replies. “Over there. See?” I smile. Grace can see something as small as a flower and be amazed by it. “It’s a pretty one, isn’t it?” I murmur, looking at a bright blue flower that Grace is pointing at. It must’ve just bloomed. A sweet frangrace fills my nose and I close my eyes, breathing in the soothing scent of the petals. I turn to my sister. We exchange our farmiliar look. Wordlessly, we walk toward the flower, each of us delicately taking a petal in our hands. I press the petal that I’ve taken to my forehead. “I wish,” I whisper, “that we’ll always be together.” I look at my sister, to let her know I’m talking about her. She beams, pressing her petal to her forehead. “I wish that tomorrow, we’ll come back and we’ll have another flower to pick.” Together, we let our petals go in the gentle breeze and watch them whisk away. Our daily routine. “What do you want to do next?” Grace bounces with exitment. “We could go home,” I reply. “See Mom and Dad.” But that’s boring!” She protests. “Let’s go to the garden!” She takes my arm and pulls me towards the garden, skipping and humming. Happiness fills me. Everything is perfect. I have a mom, a dad, and a sister. It’s a Friday. We live on Oblivion. Everyone’s peaceful. Suddenly, Grace stops. Her eyebrows raise in confusion. “There’s something in the sky.” She gives me a strange look. “It’s probably nothing.” Stroking her hair, I start walking again. The garden’s just up ahead. Once we get inside, we entire a different world. The serine calm of the garden surrounds me. Birds and butterflies flutter around, perching on flowers and branches. The birds stop to look at us, tilting their heads, trying to pair the faces they see with past ones. Once they’ve stopped looking, I take a step forward, marveling at the red, blue, green, purple, orange, black, brown, and white feathers of each singing bird I pass. Their song forms a beautiful harmony, reminding me of the songs we sing in chorus class. Remembering a song I once saw in a book, I begin to sing. The birds stop and listen. “Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it’s safe, here it’s warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.” “I love that song,” Grace sighs. “And you sing it so pretty.” “Thanks.” I reply, embarrased. BOOM! My head jerks up. “What was that?!” Grace cries, her voice strangled by terror. I look up, and when I do, I’m overcome by a horror so great that a scream escapes me. A fireball, blazing hot, rips through the roof of the garden, slamming down just feet away from Grace. I scream again, tearing towards her, sobbing. I don’t have time to see if she’s okay before another fireball shakes the ground, a wave of unbearable heat knocking me to my knees. Shudders run through my body, a mix of agony, horror, and shock. Another fireball’s coming straight towards me. My throat closes up. I’m running out of time. Putting every ounce of my strength into it, I drag myself across the garden, trembling. My throat is raw from screaming. I’m only seconds away before it comes down, slamming into the floor. I cry out and drag myself out of the garden, only to be singed by another piece of fire that sets the school ablaze. I hear panicked howls and kids race out of the school, dragging with them burned bodies beyond recognition. Suddenly, I recognize one of my friends in the fray. “Mara!” I screech. She turns towards me, her eyes widening in shock. She’s just coming to get me when another fireball rains down and – and – She’s gone. My trembling intensifies, noises of pure greif escaping me. Watching my best friend, incinerated by the fireball…this cant be happening. Grace, laying in the garden, most likely dead. Shame tears through me. I have to go back and get her. And then I notice the next fireball. It rips down out of the sky, right in the center of the garden where Grace was. My throat closes up. If she wasn’t out by now…she’s dead. I sob and howl. Why is this happening? I have to get out of here. My weak, trembling fingers reach out for a Teleporter. I let out a weak joyful sound when I feel the electricity running along my fingers. I manage to drag myself in, not noticing the agony. “Rubesdawn,” I whisper-croak, feeling Teleportation begin. Before I go, I notice the bodies of my parents, charred. A miserable sense of numbness comes over me. I slump down and let myself deflate. This morning, everything was perfect. Now, everything’s gone. ———— The flashback’s over. I close my eyes against the surge of emotions it brings. When I open them, we’re in front of the Room. The capital of Twentful, the biggest prison base in the Starshimmer Galaxy. I stiffen as the Guard opens the door. She’s giving me a look, but I can’t figure out what. As we enter the dread-filled room, a tall girl with brown hair and hazel eyes hurries out, eyes narrowed in irritation. Luckily, the Judges don’t see. She turns around as a Guard followes her. They exit in silence. Even before I sit down, I can feel the tension in the atsmosphere. Whatever happened with the last girl the Judges didn’t like. They fidget uncomfortably in their chairs, their expressions foul. I feel like I might like this girl if I ever met her. “Court case 27807056 is called to order!” The Head Judge slams the mallet down, and I wince against the amount of sound it produces. “On this 18th of September!” The Judges take their seats, and so do the Guard and I. Well, not that I can sit in a chair in cat Form. They have a spot for Prisoners, right in the front of the Room, victims of their prying, hateful gazes. I shudder quietly as they all unnervingly stare at me. “Prisoner Identification?” The Head Judge peers down his nose at me in disgust. “Frostfire,” my Guard answers. “It’d be better if you called me by my human name,” I snap, wishing they could understand me. “Alright,” the Head Judge mutters, hastily sorting a pile of messy papers. He clears his throat, looking at my Guard. “What did Frostfire do in receval of her sentence as a Prisoner?” For the next hour or so, I try to tune out what they’re saying. I know what I did – fought as a rebel. But here they are, an entire court, discussing my punishment. How long should they starve me for? Well, that answers one of my questions – they do starve Prisoners. But now they’ve moved on to when to execute me. As soon as I hear the words kill her, my heart drops into my stomach and I fight back a scream. They’re going to kill me. With the torturous…thing. A sense of growing dread fills me. I have to get out of here. I begin to tremble. I know what I have to do. I have to escape, but if I’m caught…I feel the nasiousness coming on again. I can’t escape. I’d be caught before I’d taken two steps. So what do I do? Panicked, my eyes flit around the room. I notice a dagger on one of the walls, and I frown. Why is it there? All I know is that I have to get it. The silver glint of the weapon draws me in. If I get it, I can escape. And I’ll be caught for sure if I’m slow. So I dart as fast as I can across the room, snatching the dagger in my jaws. I hear cries of outrage, and something sharp and painful sings into my leg. I gasp against the agony, turning to see scarlet blood gushing from my wound. Something is embedded in my leg. I grit my teeth so I don’t cry out. But whatever was in the thing that impaled me must’ve been drugged, because I suddenly just feel…so…tired. My eyelids droop, and the room spins. Sleep. What a wonderful word. How nice it would be to slip into the blackness and not feel this pain…something’s hovering over me. I laugh weakly. “Why…are…you…funny…looking?” I drowsily stammer. It’s true. The thing is tilted and distorted. Is it normal, this spinning feeling? I want to go to sleep. I feel…I don’t know what I feel. But unconcioucness invites me in, peaceful and…and… It takes me into a blanket of darkness. ——— “Is she awake?” I open my eyes, tense. They caught me. I’m going to die. Panic sets in, and I try to struggle out of whatever’s holding me down. I try to scream, but hands clap over my mouth. I try to bite the hands, and suddenly I realize I’m back in human Form. But…they never let Prisoners out of cat Form. I look up in confusion, but the person covering my mouth isn’t a Guard at all. She’s my age. Her frizzy hair sticks out in different directions, and she looks at me with wide eyes. “Don’t talk,” she whisper-yells, and takes her hand away. “Umm, what…?” I stammer in confusion. “Who are you?” “Don’t talk! Dang it!” She exclaims. “You’re talking,” I point out. “I’m talking VERY QUIETLY,” she points out very un-quietly. “I’m Rose,” she continues. “That’s my name. For the question. That you asked. Wait – no. My name is actually Rosetta, but…” “Rose!” Someone hisses. I jump in surprise to see another girl, a little older than Rose, step out from a rock. A rock – wait. “Where are we?” I breathe, looking around. We’re in the desert. “We’ll tell you everything, I promise,” the girl answers. “I’m Cheetah, and that’s Rose, obviously. And Jazzy’s over there.” She points to another rock. “But I thought it’d be a little better if we all introduced ourselves one by one. Anyway, you’re probably wondering why are names are so…unique,” she snorts at the word unique. “I kind of was,” I admit quietly. “Well, we’re Prisoners, just like you – um, what’s your name?” Cheetah interrupts, looking at me. “Brook.” I stare at the ground, watching an ant. My mind in spinning with hundreds of questions, not to mention the knowing fear of being tortured to death. “Okay, Brook, what’s your Prisoner name?” Cheetah inquires. “Prisoner name?” I repeat, dumbfounded. What if she’s a spy? “F-Frostfire,” I reply nervously. “Can I name her?” Rose squeals unexpectedly. I frown. “Name me?” “Well, since we’re rebels, we like to go by nicknames – our Prisoner names, shortened,” Cheetah hastily explains. “So they can’t figure us out by our real names or our Prisoner names.” “Okaaaaaaay.” “What about Frosto?” A third girl, the same age as Rose, steps out from behind a different rock. She smiles at me. “Hi. I’m Jazzy.” The girl – Jazzy – is tall, with beige skin, shoulder-length butterscotch hair, and forest-green eyes. She’s wearing a soft-looking pink the-dye shirt with denim shorts, sandals, and circle sunglasses. But what startles me is tiny puncture marks on her arms and neck, still healing. Shocked, I back up. Those same marks are on the Prisoners that die. Which means, that whatever they do to the Prisoners…you can survive it. Jazzy must’ve seen me, because her eyes darken. “I know. I should be dead, right? Well, you know what I mean. But somehow, I survived the shockivy. Cheetah saved me.” “Shockivy? That’s what it’s called?” I shudder. What a fitting name for something so horrific. Jazzy just nods numbly, reliving the incident in her mind. A pang of pity hits me. How horrible it must be to be reminded every day of that awful time, to remember the agony. “I like the name Frosto,” I gently say, trying to change the subject. All of a sudden, I get a strange feeling. “Does it feel like we’re being watched?” I hiss, taking out the dagger I stole from the Twentful court. “Shh,” Cheetah whispers, stiffening. And then I hear it. Footsteps. A cold feeling of dread opens up in the pit of my stomach. She steps out from behind our shelter, the sun beating on her pale skin. Her blazing blue eyes lock with mine, and I swallow nervously. She has a raised bow and arrow. And I can only think of one possible reason. She’s going to kill us. Chapter Two Maple’s Point of View I raise my bow and arrow at the girl whose eyes meet mine. My fingers grip the quiver tightly. It’s obvious what this group is. Spies. For Twentful. I shake my head, furious. The nerves are overcoming me. Panicked, my grip on the quiver tightens even more. I have to do this. For Mae. Tears spring into my eyes. My friend, killed by the shockivy. I have to do this for my Planet. Ostos. I am Milly, I repeat to myself, forcing my throat to not close up. I am Milly. Not just any Milly. Milly, the girl that will avenge her best friend’s death. I look down at the amulet she gave me just before the poison took her. My last memory of her. A beautiful silver necklace, with a deep purple-blue gemstone at the bottom. Carved into it is a single star, polished so many times it shimmers, even in darkness. And written on it are the everlasting words, the words that will forever be in my heart for enternity: The sun will shine. Eventually, it will. But first, you must indure the rain. You must fight for the sun. Only then will it rise again. I sigh. I know I’m stalling. But I can’t kill this girl. She’s Mae’s age. It’s all I can think about as I look at her face, her eyes, her hair, only a few shades darker than my beloved friend’s. All I can think about is another life wasted, too young to truly live yet. Taking a deep breath, I drop my bow. As soon as it hits the floor with a distinctive clatter, I know I’ve failed. I’ve failed Mae. I’ve failed Ostos. I’ve failed myself. I wasn’t strong enough. I close my eyes and extend my arms. “Just kill me now. Do it. Get it over with.” I sense confusion from the girl. What is there to be confused about? I just tried to kill her. Isn’t that reason enough? What’s holding her up? But of course, the shadow of a thought, shoved to the back of my brain because it terrifies me; she’ll do something much worse. “Please. Just do it now,” I beg, opening my eyes a crack. I was right. She looks so utterly confused that I almost laugh. Is she questioning my sanity? Trying to figure out if I’m worth keeping alive? Why? Doesn’t she hate rebels? I can’t figure her out. Finally, she takes a step toward me. “Why would I try to kill you?” She asks, the question almost a whisper. Her eyes find mine again. I wince. Maybe I misjudged her. But she just seems so nice to be a killer spy. I try to find if there are others with her with my narrowed vision, but I can’t see anything else. “I’m not going to kill you,”she says slowly, as if she’s trying to get the message to me. “I haven’t even got a weapon.” “How am I supposed to believe that?” I snap, immediately feeling a sharp stab of guilt. Too rough. I’ve let nerves take over. The girl takes a tiny step backward, emptying her pockets. “See? No weapons.” “Why aren’t you going to kill me?” I blurt out in a rush. “I’m a rebel, after all.” As I say this, I try to figure her out. Hmm. Definitely not a blind follower. She’s already showed her boldness by not killing me. She seems lost. Full of grief. Trying to live up to her potential. Broken inside. Wondering if she’ll ever be worthy. But there’s something else, too. A spark of defiance. Boldness. She wants to fight. To avenge something. I open my eyes fully, tilting my head. I’ll finish figuring her out later. First, I have to see who’s with her. I crane my neck, looking around the barren landscape, but I see no one in my quick scan of the three-mile radius. “We’re on the same side,” she says gently. “We’re both rebels.” She regards me with a strangely amused expression. “Right?” “You’re a spy,” I gasp out. “I know you are.” She winces, and I know that my comment was too sharp. “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m just nervous, and, I just – just…” I trail off, staring at the ground. “I promise I’m not a spy,” the girl replies, her voice full of pleading. Pleading? Do Twentful spies beg? I don’t think so – but then again, this one is different. Maybe I can place her with a name. “What’s your name?” “Frosto.” “Frosto?” I stammar, appealed. “Long story,” Frosto answers. “But, look. I’m not a spy. If you still think I am, ask Cheetah.” Suddenly, a girl materializes in front of me – no, wait, she popped out from behind one of the rocks. I frown. If Frosto and Cheetah are really spies, they could be accompanied by dozens of others, hiding in this terrain. The terror sets back in. Before I panic, Cheeath hurries over. “I’m Cheetah. You can meet Rose and Jazzy later. Obviously, you’ve met Frosto. Now, I’ll tell you exactly what’s going on here.” ———— “So, I’m Mapledrift.” I reply dubiously, still trying to process it all. So they’re really rebels. Unless they’ve made the entire thing up. But I doubt someone would joke about shockivy. In the meantime, though, I’ve managed to decipher Cheetah. She’s bold and brave, a natural leader. Energetic, outgoing, friendly, bouncy, irritable, annoying. Daring and adventurous. Like Frosto, she’s different. But she seems nice enough. What I’m really curious about is meeting Rose and Jazzy. What will they be like? Could they possibly help me – us – fight the war? Or will they be too scared? My mind buzzes with questions. “Mapledrift,” someone says abruptly and loudly. My head snaps up, eyes scanning. Attack threat? No, it’s just Cheetah, waving her hand in my face. “Did you hear me?” “Um, no?” I guess. “What did you say?” Cheetah clears her throat. Oops. Did I annoy her? “I said that you can have a nickname.” “Yeah, like Maplix!” I jump at the voice. Before I see who it is, I hear Cheetah’s voice. “Don’t be alarmed. It’s just Rose.” Behind me, I look around to try and see where this Rose girl is. My eyes adjust to find her. She’s only a little younger than me, with dark brown eyes. She has on a cropped blue t-shirt with a star and dark blue jean shorts. Her hair is messy and frizzy. “I’m Rose!” She exclaims. “You can call me Rose, Rosie, Roseaw, Rozizzle, or anything really! And you can call Cheetah Cheeto. I love your bow and arrow! Look! I’ve got shurikins!” She pulls out a pile of golden throwing stars. Throwing stars – potentially dangerous, but only with excellent aim. Rose keeps on chattering, but I’m busy trying to see what her personality is. Bubbly? Excitable? “Why are you staring like that?” She suddenly exclaims. “Uh…?” I stammer. “Never mind Rose. She has a short temper.” I mentally note that as Cheetah comes to stand beside me. “Want to meet Jazzy now?” She hisses in my ear, “Don’t be scared when you see the shockivy marks. She survived.” Survived? The shockivy? An immense amount of guilt crushes my chest. I could’ve saved Mae. My fault, my fault, my fault. All my fault. Again. I shake my head. The memories are pouring in, but I refuse to let myself get caught up in the past. Once was enough. Besides, I have to be strong now. I have to be brave. So Mae doesn’t die in vain. “Hi, Maple.” A tall girl with butterscotch hair greets me. “I’m Jazzy.” Immediately, I notice the shockivy puncture marks, but I don’t mention it. I’ve already mentally noted it. Now, onto noting her…kind is all I’ve got so far. But if she did something so bad she was punished with shockivy, she’s defiant as well. “What was that?” Rose yelps. Out of nowhere, I hear a scream. My belly flips over. Something huge and savage-looking, resembling a beastlike dog, has its fangs sunken into Cheetah’s leg. She screams again, writhing in agony, eyes wild with shock and pain. Another one of the beasts races towards her, about to bite into her neck and kill her. This is it. My chance. To actually save someone. I pick up my bow and arrow and aim it straight at the monstor’s heart. It collapses, blood spilling out. It twitches once and then closes its eyes. It’s dead. I did it. I saved her. Pride wells in my chest. But then I realize how many more are coming. An entire pack of them. Charging in our direction, fangs bared. Cheetah crawls toward us, gasping. “Teleport!” Frosto screams, grabbing a Teleporter. Jazzy drags Cheetah in, and I run, legs aching, chest burning. “Is everyone here?” Frosto demands. “Where’s Rose?” But before we can find her, Jazzy, not hearing Frosto, says something into the Teleporter. “No!” I screech. But we’re already Teleporting. I see the tendrils of blue light, feel the burning, pulsing agony. Realization leakes into Jazzy’s eyes, but it’s too late. Rose is gone. I swallow back a sob. Determination burns in Frosto’s gaze as Teleportation ends. “We have to go back and save her!” She sobs. “Come on!” “But it’s too late,” Jazzy whispers. A single teardrop falls from her eye. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. But she’s gone. Oh, Frosto, Maple, I’m so sorry.” “But we have to try,” Frosto croaks. Tears well up in her eyes. I realize I’m crying, too. Not Rose. Bouncy, energetic Rose. Tears leak onto the ground. Not her. “I’m going back,” Frosto replies, stifling a sob. Before we can stop her, she runs back into the Teleporter and disappears in blue light. “Frosto!” I cry. In the distance, I see figures. Three of them. Running towards us. My heart pounds. Why are they coming? But all I know now is one thing. Frosto and Rose are gone. Chapter Three Hawthorn’s Point of View I look down at the dead girl’s body. She lays on the leaves, filled with life only moments ago, eyes blank. Cold as winter wind, cold as death. Why her? She was the spark. The one who kept us going. We didn’t fight for her, not just her, but she fought for us. Without her, we would’ve given up a long time ago. But now she’s dead. Isabelle, Crystal-Rose, Bailey, and I are nothing without the hope she brought. She was the only one left hoping long after we knew that we were unable to defeat the menacing army of Twentful. And now all our hope really is gone. I can’t bear to tell the others. It would devastate them. Even Isabelle, who was often irritated at her constantly cheerful mindset, a bright flame in the midst of the darkness. Even she will grieve. And then what? We’ll fall apart. “Holly? Am I interrupting…something?” Crystal-Rose’s farmiliar voice echoes. I wince, bracing myself for what will come next. Crystal-Rose trods in, wearing a purple t-shirt with flowers. “Holly?” I stare at the ground. “Are you okay?” She murmurs gently. I sigh. “She’s dead.” Crystal immediately knows who I’m talking about. Her gaze turns to the girl, once so lively, gone forever. “No,” she whispers. “Not her.” “I’m sorry.” But I know the words have no meaning. They are as hollow as a dead tree, as useless as a flightless bird. They will never mean anything, not to anyone. Not anymore. Crystal’s head droops. I can tell she’s trying not to grieve. Trying to be strong. Wordlessly, she walks back out, going to deliver the news to Bailey and Isabelle. Why her? The words, distorted, unreal, turn around and around in my head like a relentless wave. They churn, unforgiving, tearing at me. Why not me? Why can’t it just be me, lying lifelessly on the leaves? She was too precious to die. Why, why, why? Why can’t she still be in front of me, full of life and hope? Like she was before…before… My eyes cloud over with grief. I don’t know how she died. I could only hear the tortured screams, then silence as they threw her limp body to me, disgusted. I remember that I could only stare, unblinkingly, at her. She’s dead. I couldn’t believe my instincts, that she wouldn’t breathe again. I could only stand there as war raged all around me, flaming bombs erupting everywhere on my one-peaceful Planet. And, just as I am now, wishing with all my heart that it was my limp body they threw to her like vermin. But I can’t stay here forever. I have to brave, like Crystal was. “WHAT?!” I hear a snarl and then a clatter. Anxious, I hurry out of the room to the source of the noise. Isabelle stands over a broken sword, a thousand silver fragments now. “It was an accident, Holly.” I look down at the bits of the weapon, frowning. “It’s fine. But we need every weapon we can get. Where’s Crystal-Rose?” Isabelle’s eyes close. “She told me.” I nod, shoving away my own grief. “Let’s go. Now that she’s dead, we need to win as many battles as we can. Did Crystal tell Bailey?” Isabelle shrugs. “I don’t know.” Taking a deep breath, I call out, “Crystal-Rose! Bailey! We’re Teleporting to Oblivion!” Not waiting to hear the shocked replies from them – or even Isabelle – I snatch a long Teleporter tendril. “Oblivion,” I whisper. ———— The ash is everywhere. It falls in flurries, cold like snow, but not beautiful or fluffy. Gray, the color of death and grief, it swallows everything in sight, even the bodies of lost soldiers. It’s a huge graveyard. Picking my way through the ashes, the others behind me, I let myself grieve. We walk for mile upon mile. Will Oblivion ever give us what we need? We usually go to Twentful, but today, I felt a strange feeling – that our lives would depend on us going here. Still trudging, my feet slick with snow and ash, my mind wanders. How many bodies are here? How many lives Sacrificed in the terrible Wars? Will our bodies soon join theirs? A cold shiver runs down my spine. “No!” My head whips around to find where the cry came from. Isabelle, Bailey, and Crystal all look as confused as I am. “You three,” I hiss quietly, in case whatever made the noise hears. “Go that way.” I point north. “I’ll go east.” Bailey gulps. “I know this might happen, so I’ll say it anyway,” I whisper, grief fogging my eyes. “If we die…I want you to know that without any of you, we wouldn’t be here right now. Okay, enough of the cheesy stuff.” I laugh, but it doesn’t reach my heart. As my feet carry me east, I hear a whisper on the wind. “Goodbye.” I walk, not counting time. I should go back. They’ll be waiting. But I can’t bear it. Am I…abandoning them? My throat closes up. I’ve never felt this detachment before. I feel like even if I go back, I can’t do anything, that the Wars will continue until there’s nothing left. Would it really be so bad, to die like this? In the peaceful land of ash? The pendant yanks me out of my numbness. Gleaming in the ash, its amber surface is unmistakeable. I pick it up, turning it around and around in my fingers. On the front of it is a drawing of flames. On the back is one word – DAWN Dawn of what? I ponder it, sitting in the field of ash. I imagine what Oblivion would’ve looked like before this war – green grass, trees, a blue sky, Teleporter tendrils reaching for the stars. Anyone, anywhere, free to use them. And then I realize. This war was not the fault of Teleporters. It was not caused by such a pety object. It was because of us. Humans. If there were no Teleporters, the Multiverse Wars would not of ceased to exist. It is our nature to destroy everything we create, poison everything good in the Multiverse. To end everything we love. Before, I thought that the Wars happened because of corrupt leaders and the need for Teleporters. I was wrong. Human nature is the cause for all of this. This mass destruction. We did this. We, the humans, citizens of the Multiverse, the same Multiverse that has given us nothing but unconditional support, destroyed everything. We created this land of ash. We ended the lives of billions of innocent. We are the ones the blame. I also realize why I don’t want to go back. Even if the Wars end, peace will not unfurl itself like a hidden flower waiting to bloom. That flower will shrivel up and die. War will continue. Hundreds of years from now, Oblivion will still be ash. “Holly! Run! Now!” The agonizing heat of a firebomb explodes by my leg. Screaming with pain, I scrunch my eyes closed as the whir of a Bomber echoes overhead. This is the end. I know it. I look at the pendant. DAWN. Help me, I beg it, even though it can’t. What if it shouldn’t help me? Panic scorches my insides. Gasping, I crawl away as a firebomb roars in my ears. It misses me. Barely. “Get the body!” The cry is almost drowned out by the Bomber, but I can still hear it. Looking up, my heart stops. Her body’s dangling from the Bomber! “No!” I scream, clutching the pendant. They’re taking her. We can never have the funeral we should’ve had, never paid the respects she deserved – if she had died before, we would be nothing. So I jump. As I spring up, cloudy, foggy, ashen sky surrounds me, its coldness fluttering against my cheeks. Desperate, my arms flail for a grip, and they catch on the body at the last moment before I tumble to the ground. Instead, we tumble together. Going down, the cold air whips against my cheeks and stings them. My stomach has that horrible falling feeling, and my mouth opens in a twisted cry. I thump the ashes with sickening pain. My mouth moves, but no sound comes out. “Crystal,” I gasp. She stands above me with a shocked gaze. “You came for me.” “It’s Crater now,” she replies hastily. “We…have some explaining to do.” We? I look to see that several other girls are huddled around Crystal – Crater – staring at me. I wince. Suddenly, one of the girls shrieks. My heart thumps against my chest. Am I injured? Did Bailey or Isabelle die? “Frosto-“ one of the girls begins, but the other one, Frosto, collapses before me, her jaw open in a grimace of horror. She’s looking down at the body. “Grace,” she croaks. “That’s my sister’s body.” Chapter Four Blu's Point of View “Stop hiding from me, Crow. I know you’re there.” I glare down at where the Warrior-King’s harsh, snarling voice tears out of. There is no escape from the Warrior-King. He haunts dreams and ends lives with his catlike claws, attached to his fingers during his Crowning, during the Crowning of every Warrior-King ever known to Demeter. I was the Princess-Heir, a Queen-to-Be. As part of the Royal Warrior Family, I would be Demeter’s next queen, and choose the next Warrior-King. Then, I would be the Warrior-Queen, semi-ruler of my Planet. Such glorious dreams. Now I’m a rebel. I remember the day so clearly it all ended, like I’m looking through polished glass. Distrorted, broken glass, like the horrid day it was. At first, seemingly perfect and beautiful, but after looking closer, filled with pain and loss. Yes. I remember. It was raining. Thunder rumbled in the distance like a hungry monster. Lightning flashed. And then the screams. Cries of panic. Everything. Distorted. Lost so instantly. Destroyed in the firebombs that overtook us. We were so peaceful. Calm. And they killed us all. Us. Why? Nobody knows. But they spared me. Me. Koroneis Everlyn-Ryoko, the Princess-Heir of Demeter. Now, everyone calls me an assasin. Crow. The Warrior-King sends me on Missions, assasion Missions, as he calls them, to kill our enemies. Today, my target – Chiara Sparke, an escaped Prisoner, high-ranked criminal, accompanied by Rosetta de la Corizon. Both wanted dead. “Crow!” “I’m here, King,” I sigh, calling him by the name he wants me to at last. “Ah, I knew you’d come through,” he replies, his voice almost like a cat’s purr. Distribingly like one. “Did you see Chiara?” “No, King.” “Find her. I don’t want my oppurtunity to be ruined by a Princess,” he snarls. I flinch. Everyone considered me proper, uptight, and perfect just because I was a Princess-Heir. Turns out, they couldn’t of been more wrong. I’m a warrior. A Warrior-Heir. My head snaps up and my ears prick as I hear footsteps. Several. The footsteps are loud, too. I hear cries. “Teleport!” “Is everyone here? Where’s Rose?” “No!” A flash of blue light, a tendril. Silence. Quivering, I poke my head out from where they dissapeared at. Placing my feet down as gently as I can, I creep toward the spot they were at. Fangs snap at me. Blood darkens my shirt. My feet lift off the ground. I see sky. I see clouds. And now I see the ground, racing towards me. I twist away just as I thump the grass, the breath knocked out of me. There are teeth marks in my leg. It’s coming toward me. It. A snarling, slobbering beast with scarlet-stained teeth. Its head turns toward the sky, howling. It’s closer now. Closer. Closer. Closer. It’s coming. Closer. Closer. Closer. Almost to me. Closer. Closer. Closer. I will soon feel the pain, see blood. Closer. Closer. Closer. Death is near. Closer. Closer. Closer. So close. Another flash of blue light. I spring back, hissing at the pain in my leg. The girl that runs by… I know her. Not personally, but from a mission. She escaped Twentful. Didn’t she? She leaps into the snarling fray of beasts, frainticly crying out. Crying out a name. Before I can think, my feet are moving again, shoving aside the beasts as their fangs flash by me. Pain. Darkness. I see her. My hands reach out, pulling her up from them. She has another girl with her. I yank them both up. My chest heaves as I drag both of them away from the monsters. The one that leaped into the pit looks back up at me, too many emotions to count reflecting in her eyes. Can the Warrior-King see me now? But, suddenly, I understand. It doesn’t matter if he sees me. If I die. When I look at the girl in front of me, I don’t feel the urge to kill her, or torture her with shockivy, or lock her up in a dark prison cell where she’ll never see sunlight again. I only feel an urge to help her and the other girl. I lift my head. My voice comes out clear as I speak the words that will destroy me. “King, I don’t want to hurt this girl. I’m done being a pawn in your sick games. I’m going to save this girl. You can come here right now. You can murder me and my entire family. You can murder every good person that lives in the Multiverse. But you know what? Our deaths will never be in vain. It won’t matter if you kill us. Because the spark, the spark lit by those who fight – that will never go out. It will catch. Fire will catch. And it will burn you to the ground.” Silence. Cold, dead silence. Than a roar. He’s coming. I know I said I didn’t want to die. But I don’t want to die on purpose. Besides, I can’t just think about my life now. The three of us could change the entire tide of the war. “We’ve got to move,” I grunt. “That was the Warrior-King, ruler of my Planet. He’s coming to kill us now. But the girls don’t come like I expected them to. Instead, the uninjured one turns toward me, looking shocked “Crow?” She gasps. I knew this would be a problem. “You’ve just got to trust me. I understand you think I’m leading you into a trap. Don’t trust me? Fine. Stay here and watch your friend bleed out.” I try not to wince at how cruel I sound. The other girl’s eyes narrow. “I’m not letting you take Rose.” “Well, he’s coming,” I snap. “Now’s your chance. Both of your lives, yours and your friend Rose’s, lie in your hands. What’s it going to be?” To my surprise, Rose lifts her head. “Frosto, let’s go.” “With her?” Frosto hisses. “Fine. Go on your own. I’m sorry, but…I can’t.” She turns away, giving Rose a final good-bye. “She’s not coming,” Rose whispers. Her head droops. “Either way, we’ve got to get out of here,” I insist, trying to keep my patience. “Get in the Teleporter.” Rose hops in without further complaint, but I can tell she’s grieving. She must know what’s going to happen now. The Warrior-King will find Frosto here. He’ll question her, and no matter what she says, she’ll die anyway. Grief hardens in my chest. I didn’t know her, but she doesn’t deserve to die. I yank on the Teleporter tendril. “Go to Oblivion,” Rose says. “That’s where Cheetah, Jazzy, and Maple went.” “There’s more of you?” More rebels? And what’s with their names? But my questions can wait. “Oblivion.” —— So apparently I’m Blu now. Well, technically Bluefire. I look around at Cheetah, Jazzy, Maple, Rose, Hawthorn, Crater, Bracken, and Spidey. Some of them – to be fair, most of them – give me quick, fearful gazes. Scared of me. Scared of Crow. Despite Rose’s best attempts, they still backed away as they saw me, still glaring at me now or darting their eyes around in fear, especially Maple. The uneasiness settles around the room like a thick blanket of fog. The only one who’s not staring is Hawthorn, who lies on the ground. We found her in the ashes. There’s a body beside her, and she hasn’t said why. Fear is clutching me. Did she kill the girl whose bloody body lies beside her now? Swoosh “Frosto?” No one hears me, especially not her. She falls to her knees in front of Hawthorn, facing the body. “Grace! That’s my sister’s body,” she shrieks. I can’t tell if Hawthorn can hear her or not. Pain reflects in Frosto’s eyes. She trembles, grabbing her arm. “Did you kill her?” She snarls at Hawthorn, shoving her face close. “No,” Hawthorn gasps. “It was Twentful. They killed her with shockivy.” Frosto’s eyes blaze with fury. But she doesn’t have time to respond. Crater cries out, her eyes widening in surprise. A black vine, resembling shockivy, winds itself around Crater, around and around. Her mouth and eyes vanish under the vine. And then Crater vanishes. Category:Fanfiction Category:In progress